And Into the Fire
by Aerista
Summary: Last thing Agent Connecticut remembered was dying in the hands of her lover and knowing the fact she had done something good. Last thing she expected was to wake up on some unknown planet patched up and ready to go. Red VS Blue fanfiction. Rated T for language and possible gore and violence. Little to no shipping.
1. Waking Up

Last thing Agent Connecticut remembered was dying in the hands of her lover and knowing the fact she had done something good.

Last thing she expected was to wake up on some distant planet patched up and ready to go.

At first, she thought this was some kind of post-death hallucination. As if there was some kind of paradise she put herself in to make her passing easier. As far as she could tell, however, it was all real. The problem was that she refused to believe it was real. She had died. She remembered dying and all the pain that came with it. Being alive just seemed…impossible.

First thing she saw waking up was a flashing red light. To the eyes, it was almost blinding, but it was a quickly amended problem as the top half of the pod shot up and out, away from the small crater she had created in her supposed crash landing. Her armor was stiff like the rest of her body, indents and scratches from her encounter with Tex and Carolina. If it was anything, she felt sore and sitting up probably wasn't the best idea at the moment. Of course, neither was sitting there to die in the desert land she had gotten stuck on. So Connie sat up and, as predicted, immediately regretted it. She couldn't find any place to get sick in, so she leaned over the side and hurled up whatever had remained sour in her stomach for all these…how long had it been? Days? Weeks? Months? _Years?_ She couldn't tell, and honestly, she didn't exactly want to know.

The stench of bile made her cringe, the taste still lingering a bit on her tongue. Slowly, she sat up a bit more, now resting on her knees, and wobbled as she stood up for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Holding onto the sides of the single-person pod, she pushed herself up and out of it, both feet unstably landing on the sand and causing her to slip a bit. After regaining her balance once again, she turned to look at her surroundings. Nothing. Nothing but sand and dust and ruin. This was unfortunate for the former Freelancer, causing her to sigh in frustration.

During her frustration, she had conflicting ideas of how to proceed with her current situation. She could either sit back and wait for somebody to come and get her (the most unlikely of situations), search the escape pod for anything helpful, or take her chances in the nature and hope that there was some kind of civilization on this planet. That decision was easily made and once her head stopped spinning, she leaned back into the pod, looking for anything. She would need as much she could get if the weather here was going to be in comparison of what she would find for the next few days.

There wasn't much to find in that escape pod. It must have previously been used as a medical pod, to her benefit. There were a few first aid kits, a canteen about half full of water and a few scraped-up rations. At least the Insurrectionists weren't exactly thorough when it came to cleaning out things like this. Her tomahawk and helmet were nowhere to be seen, though, so that was a bit of a downer. In fact, there wasn't any kind of weapon in her pod; not even something that could be combined with a few other things to make a weapon. Deciding to not waste any more energy looking for more things that were hiding in nooks and crannies, she took what she could in a pack, zipped it closed, and threw it over her back, heading out into the sands of an unknown planet.

Little helped the blistering heat radiating onto her face and into her armor. Normally, or at least, when it functioned, it was able to ventilate and cool herself in intense heat. She trudged along, slowly starting to believe that taking the armor with her was a horrible decision in a multitude of ones to come. But just trashing it here wouldn't exactly help her either, in case of an enemy attack. Though, at least for now, there was no way she could even being to assume that there was anything living out here. There was the occasional tumble weed or random creature she couldn't identify, but mostly, it was dry, demonizing desert lands.

When she started walking, it had been about midday, or from what she could tell. After a few hours, it was already nighttime and freezing. Connie knew she had to find some place to sleep or she'd pass out of tire before too long. Though she had been used to pulling full nights during Project Freelancer, it always left her off her game in the morning and attention was something she couldn't afford to lose now. Not until she found somewhere safe.

All this time alone gave her time to think. Lots and lots of time to think. Last thing she remembered before "dying" was Tex, Carolina, and a world going to hell. It wasn't like she wasn't expecting that, but they wouldn't even give her the time of day. Allison was…she only hoped she got her message. That she understood the truth and maybe actually took down Freelancer once and for all. It was a dream and a sincere hope. Otherwise, everything CT risked, as far as friends and herself, would be for nothing. A complete failure and the Director would still be in control and Tex and Carolina his two main lackeys. And the world that she wanted to restore would be lost.

She thought of Wash and York and North and South. She thought of all the AI that were fragmented from the Alpha and how it gave her chills knowing that they may never know what they truly were capable of. But until she found another human being, it wasn't exactly like she could find what happened. Her gut thought she did well, but any gut intentions she ever had before only backfired and made things worse.

Trudging through the endless dark of a desert night, she only hoped for the best.


	2. Sand and Dust

There was a point in the night where Connie fell asleep in the sand. It wasn't exactly clear when she fell, but it was after midnight and she woke up as she felt her own skin start to cook inside her own suit. It took a while to get up, let alone, start moving in the bulkiness of her armor. Ditching it was probably the best idea at this point. There was no sign of life in sight and the more she moved in the hot desert sun, the more she felt her body start to drag again and become sluggish. There wasn't much water left by early afternoon and if she ran out of water then, she'd be dead before she could find her way to some place safer.

It was her strategic mindset that kept popping in every once in a while that kept her trudging with armor. Though extremely unlikely, she could be attacked. Or she could find her helmet and start using the cooling systems. This was enough to keep her with the armor, but kept herself with a slow pace. Too much exertion could lead to more water and energy loss and that was a resource that she couldn't afford to lose at this point in time.

Baby blue skies and cloudless abysses was all that greeted her in the deathtrap of a desert; that and the pounding heat that would only turn to bitter cold by sundown. Her mind lingered to a memory of herself and the others getting trapped on A-781 and how they all nearly died. Communications were cut by Insurrectionists and they were pretty much stranded. Carolina was able to take charge (as much as York would let her) and it was about a week before they were able to repair equipment and get themselves out of there.

The Director had left them for dead. And yet nobody seemed to notice or care. Nobody except for Connie.

It wasn't a fun experience, but some of the others were able to make the most of it. Carolina had used it as training time, some of the others did as well while the rest (including herself) used it as a time to bond. It had only been a few months since they all had started Project Freelancer, so it wasn't exactly like they were much of a team. At least, not compared to when it all ended. It was a happier time before. A simpler time. A time none would ever seem to know again.

Unfathomable amounts of time passed and before she knew it, the sun was set. And once again, she had begun to freeze. The heat that insulated her suit was keeping her a bit warm, but she knew all too well that another day like this out in the heat and ice would end up killing her. Stupidly, she stopped in her tracks, looking all around her for any signs of life. For a while it seemed as if there was nothing to be seen and all hope was lost.

So instead of dying with a stab in the chest, she would die a slow and painful death. The thinking was giving a pounding sensation in her head. Little anything could make her feel any sense of hope. Maybe it was time to give up and die. Nobody had seen her leave or revive. Dying here would at least cause little disturbance and that was probably best. Yet doing that made her feel incomplete. Not only did she want answers, she needed answers. Her strength wasn't keeping up with her determination, however, and as heat was slowly being released into the icy desert air, she fell to her knees, looking around for more of anything. Life, previous civilizations, gardens, anything really. Just something to strive for.

And somehow, in the mist of confusion and dehydration, a small flickering light became a beacon of hope and of demise. It wasn't like this was the first time she had died. Falling to her knees then onto her stomach, she kept sight of the light. Somehow, it seemed as if it were approaching. But stars don't get closer. Stars stay still. In all reality, they don't even twinkle. But the light looked like a star and made her smile gently as she fell into a sleep she was sure she was going to wake up from.

—

Connie gasped for air, a cold splash of water having rushed over her face and awoke her from a deep sleep. Her entire face had been soaked by a blurry figure with a bucket of water. While she did not drink said water, it made her feel more hydrated from when she passed out previous. Then she wondered if she was actually dead and this was some kind of odd afterlife. The bucket was placed on the ground and the figure returned, taking fingers and opening her eyes wide as if the secrets to the universe were hidden in them. The dainty figure, as CT's vision became clearer, was that of a woman, no older than nineteen, dressed in what looked like blue embroidered white dress. Her skin was of a darker complexion with black hair and eyes to match. Connie truly believed that this girl was an angel and she was dead, but then the girl started to speak.

"Èske ou pèdi, lòt nasyon?" _(Are you lost, stranger?)_

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Èske ou pèdi, lòt nasyon?" The girl started to get confused and a bit frustrated. "Frè m 'jwenn ou nan dezè a. Pa gen moun ki janm estipid ase yo ale deyò pou kont li." _(My brother found you in the desert. Nobody is stupid enough to go out there alone.)_

Connie had no idea how to talk to this girl. Clearly, she was speaking a different language and clearly it was not anything close to English that they could communicate effectively. Binary was something she could understand and that was just a bunch of ones and zeros. If she didn't want to anger this girl much more, then she'd need to talk somehow. Firstly, she had to figure out what the girl had asked. "I was stuck in the desert," she spoke slowly. "Did you find me?"

"Pa gen, frè mwen an," the girl said, pointing out the room. _Okay, so not her. Good to know_. The more the girl talked, the more it reminded her of when she did language studies at the academy. Sounded like French, but wasn't exactly it. She just hoped that her remedial French would be able to help her through this conversation. Though, CT had become curious as how the girl was able to understand her.

Then she decided to ask, "Do you know English?"

Thankfully, the girl nodded, beginning to speak in English, voice thick with an accent Connie wasn't entirely sure of. "My name is Itidal. I am sorry if you could not understand before. I thought all of your people spoke our language by now."

"My people?" Had there been other Freelancers who made it out here?

"Yes. UNSC. I am surprised you do not know. They patrol city."

Connie had a moment of panic. This girl knew that she was UNSC. At least she was safe in the fact that this girl did not seem to know who she was or what she was part of. The UNSC, if they knew she was alive, would probably want her for dead, or at least, her armor. That was also the time she realized her armor was gone and she was left in her sports bra and skin protection trousers.

She jumped up in the bed, but Itidal attempted to keep her laying there. "Do not get up so quickly! You were extremely dehydrated and body without rest. Please, just lay down a bit more."

"Where is my armor? Where did it go?"

"Please CT, calm down. You are safe here."

Connie froze. "How do you know my name? Where is my armor?!"

"Your name was on your armor. And do not worry, it is safe. I had to get it off to check for burns and help you get clean from the desert. Please, calm your body. Stress will only keep you in this bed longer."

It took a long moment of silence, but the former Freelancer calmed down and sat back against the sandstone walls. "Fine. But I want answers."

Itidal smiled, taking a seat on the bed. "What do you wish to know, Agent Connecticut?"


	3. True Colors

Itidal wished that time moved faster, or at least, CT did not have as many questions. It was a variant of asks, ranging from today's date to why the UNSC were patrolling the planet. The date was March 27, 2561 and the planet was Oasis VI. It wasn't found until a few years prior, which Connecticut figured she was in some kind of stasis, and was then claimed as a UEG colony. Itidal continued to explain that this was one of the last colonies to be found by the UNSC and to be constantly patrolled. Before, it was just food and water and medical supplies. Past year or so, it had gotten worse.

There was constant surveillance and brutality if somebody looked at a soldier the wrong way. People were afraid to leave their homes and their ways of life were being questioned almost every day. Even Itidal's own brother was worried about his and his sister's safety if they were found out to be living contrary to what rules and 'laws' the UNSC had put in place when they continued to oversee. Since it was such a far planet from any major UNSC outpost, any kind of lawfulness was out the window and the soldiers thought they had control over anything and everything.

People from Earth had started colonizing the planet in other places before a few years ago, their inhabitance seeming to start before the infamous fall of Reach. Normally, the western hemisphere was left alone, most resources and necessities for life on the east. The West was either ice or desert, the meeting place of both biomes creating a place of fruitful and plentiful earth. That was what seemed to attract the UNSC at first, but only increased their interest as long as they kept finding people and resources to use and abuse.

Connie listened to the answers of all of her questions and she was absolutely disgusted. The Director was bad, using herself and the other Freelancers once upon a time, but nothing compared to the brutality that was going on in this village. It was desert wasteland out here, nothing of any use to the UNSC as far as she could tell.

"So if there's nothing they want here, why do they stay?" CT asked, still confused and internally enraged.

Itidal sighed. "No elders know, but some having spread whispers of a spirit living beneath this place."

That was unexpected and a bit disconcerting. Connie sat up a bit in her bed, slouching over, but retreating to upright when the pain in her abdomen spiked. "Wait," she stopped before Itidal could continue or try to care more for her wounds. "What spirit? What's the story?"

"You interested in cultural history?" Itidal asked with a pleased smile upon her face.

"Sure…you could call it that."

"Well, years ago, a goddess of the desert came and smiled upon our village. She was worn in her mortal form, but the elders cared for her. While caring for her, it was seen that there was another spirit inside of her; one of man. The elders were amazed at this goddess' abilities.

"Sadly, it was not long until the body of the goddess died; our remedies and treatments not working on her form. While her spirit left her body, the one of man remained. With his guidance, the elders were able to remove him from the corpse and kept him in a box below the village. Some say that if you listen closely, you can hear the voice of the man."

It sounded to Connie like just another ancient myth that was told from one generation to the next, truth and fantasy coexisting. "And have you hear this…man's voice?" she asked.

Itidal was taken aback slightly, looking down and seeming to grow a slightly pink blush on her dark complexion. "Oh no. Never me. Not gifted."

"Not gifted?"

"Yes. Not gifted. I cannot hear spirits like gifted can."

"And hearing this spirit is how you all decide who is gifted and who is not?"

"Yes, with many other tests as well."

"Can you take me to where this spirit lies?"

The native girl nearly fell off the bed at her statement, scrambling to cover Connie's mouth. The Freelancer was extremely confused. Did she say something wrong? Was her breath smelling? She removed the other's hand from her mouth and before she started speaking, the other signaled her to talk quieter. And so she complied.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded. "What's so wrong about going to see this spirit?"

"Nobody sees the spirit. Nobody talks to the spirit. If you do, you will be forever cursed. You almost died a while ago. I will not let you die."

"Odd coming from somebody who I only just met."

"You need allies, Connecticut, in this place. Here, you are not a soldier, but a survivor. As are we all. You are not a soldier so what are you? They will hurt you. Cause you agony. You are below them and will not let you see the spirit."

"Why trust me? For all you know, I am escaping a prison or execution."

"We all are here, Connecticut. So we must stick together." Itidal offered Connie a hand and a smirk. "Are you ready to join in force?"

It probably wasn't a good idea. But there didn't seem to be many good ideas to be had as of late. So taking the other's hand and nodding, she said, "We've got a deal."

—

Whatever kind of clothing the people in this village wore, it was itchy and frustrating and made CT feel like a giant target. Not only was she a bit more awkward when walking in her new clan garb, but she also was fairly whiter than all the others, ones of her skin only really being soldiers. Itidal thought to solve this by giving her a cloak with a hood. It hid her face fairly well, but it also meant she had to hide most of her showing skin which, in the end, made the cloak fairly pointless.

She wore what could only be described as a a coarse linen dress wrapped with a similar material as a belt. The dress had thick straps to keep it up on her shoulders and rested just above her knees. Her feet were covered in foot-wraps. All other clothes she had worn before were hidden in a trap door below the bed she awoke in, just as a precaution to an unexpected visit from the UNSC.

Connie only saw a glimpse of Itidal's brother, apparently named Leroi. He was broad shouldered, muscular, and a tad frightening. Most importantly, he was the one man in the village all the girls fawned over, according to Itidal. CT couldn't see how, but supposed the more masculine a male seemed, the more attractive and strong they would be as a potential partner. Natural selection seemed to ride strong in this village. At least, natural selection that wasn't influenced by the UNSC's interventions.

"How much longer is it until we get to wherever you're taking me?" CT asked, a bit irritated they might not be heading to this spirit she talked about. But Itidal shushed her, only making Connie more frustrated and concerned about where they were headed. If they were going to head to the underground sanctuary from the myth, then why wasn't she allowed to wear her armor? It might attract unwanted attention, sure, but two random village girls heading into a heavily fortified UNSC research site made it even more suspicious. At least wearing her armor would have any guards not question about the UNSC origins and think her to be some upper-level soldier. That's technically what she is, or…was, after all.

Walking through the streets was more havoc then she ever experienced when there was a closed main hall on the _Mother of Invention_. But the farther they went from the main street, and more importantly, main patrols of the main village streets, things became quieter and UNSC soldiers starting to thin out. Connie got suddenly tugged foreword as Itidal grabbed her arm and pulled her faster, into a slow jog. "It's just this way. Come. We are almost there." _Almost there to what?_ Connecticut wondered, eventually asking her to at least put her mind at ease.

"Almost to the spirit," Itidal giggled, almost menacingly, under her breath. That didn't exactly help with Connie's concern for the current situation. Neither did the feeling of being watched. But that feeling hadn't left her since she woke up.

The sky was past midday, heading close to sundown. Between recovering, asking questions, and running all across the village, CT could officially say she was exhausted. It wasn't until the looming metal building came into view. _UNSC _was written in large letters along the side of the building. For some reason, heading to see this spirit seemed like a horrible idea. The building was a ways into the desert, from what she could tell, and it was getting dark. If anything, she was sure that this cloak and the way they dressed wouldn't keep them warm at night. But Itidal kept running, almost as if she was excited to infiltrate a UNSC military building.

Connecticut turned around, looking back at the village as the sun began to set behind it. Something was wrong. Nothing could be this easy.

And that was the last thing she remembered before hearing Itidal scream then seeing only black.


	4. Time Flies By

Connie woke up to the sounds of a deep man's voice and whimpers of what sounded like a small child. She wasn't exactly sure what to expect when she opened her eyes, but the thing she expected least was what was going on. Her head was pounding from whomever or whatever hit her before she blacked out. Rubbing the back of her neck, she sat up slightly, looking around a faintly lit room. On one side of bars was the jail warden, clearly identifiable as UNSC. _Damn_, she thought, _I know I should have left alone_. The man was speaking the native tongue, yelling at a girl in the same cell as her. Bloodied, clothes ripped and missing, curled up in the fetal position trying to cover her ears and block out his seemingly abusive words.

The soldier slammed his baton upon the titanium bars, causing a painful ringing noise to fill the small jail. The noise made the girl, who turned out to be Itidal, cringe and begin to weep in fear. Instincts took over for a moment and Connie attempted to charge into the man, ramming into the cell and arms not able to reach far enough to strangle him. The pain from collision was immense and her arms were beaten away with the electric baton. She yelped and fell backwards, close to Itidal, landing in what she could only think to be blood. The man laughed as she stumbled and walked away, leaving the few flickering candles as the two's only light sources.

Rubbing her head, she then checked her arms, large second degree burns beginning to form and spreading themselves straight across her upper forearms. At the moment, she didn't really care, though it did hurt like all hell. CT turned her attention to the shaking friend in the corner. Crawling a bit closer, hoping not to have the guards come down and try to beat either of them again, even though it was bound to happen in a few hours, or possibly, minutes. Itidal was hesitant of Connie coming closer and rightfully so. For all she knew, Connie was part of these brutes. Nonetheless, she kneeled next to the crying other.

"Give me a hand," she insisted in hushed tones, trying not to attract attention. Itidal complied, handing Connie her left hand, keeping her right one compressed against her chest in a fist. She took it gently, taking her hand and placing it on her knee while she ripped a strip of cloth from her cloak, taking the hand and slowly wrapping from Itidal's hand and up her arm, making sure to cover most of the larger wounds there. There was no way to disinfect until they got out of there or were hopefully given water.

The girl hissed and Connecticut apologized each time it happened until it seemed pointless. Both were in too much pain to seem to even care anymore whether what they did or what they experienced was hurting. Once one arm was done, Connie tore another strip and did the other arm. Then she eventually worked on the legs, cleaning them of any blood since they were mainly brushed up and not cut.

Once finished, she sat against the sandstone walls, allowing the darkness to envelop her. She couldn't help but feel…sick. It wasn't like it was the first time she had been in this kind of situation. Her first encounter with the Insurrectionists was being in a place like this, except less dusty and the blood drier.

It was the third or fourth mission after she had come out of basic training. It was hell of a mission from start to when she got captured. It was a stupid mistake, she had to admit, but at least she didn't die. From what she had been told by her teammates, her demise was supposed to be immediate. Insurrectionists didn't take prisoners. None…except for her. Similar to how she ended up in the jail cell, she and Carolina had been ambushed. Carolina was able to get away, but Connie got stuck and everything went black, vision only returning in a room that was definitely not on the _Mother of Invention_. Arms and legs were bound together in chains. At the time, if pulled hard enough, she could have gotten free, but she had no weapon other than her knife. At the time, in a room filled with enemies with guns, she wouldn't have made it out in one piece.

That's also the time when she met him; the leader of the Insurrectionists. He was a bit obnoxious, arrogant, and menacing at first. She attempted to keep a level head and asked why he had spared her. His answer, at least, was unexpected.

The leader explained that he needed her as an information source. Normally, that was the kind of job she was doing for the Director, but this crazy? The fact of her life being spared aside, she wasn't just ready to leave Project Freelancer to join up with him. For all she knew, once he got what he wanted, he'd have her maimed and murdered and thrown off into the far reaches of space. She was headstrong and denied all his offers, refusing to join him. But something he mentioned about the Director have his own kind of guise intrigued her and made her shut up, for the very least.

It was at those next hours of sitting and listening that she learned what she was really part of. How everything she had trained for and everything she had ever done in order to keep the project moving was all for waste. How the Director was a madman and torturer. Somehow, Connie believed every word he said, no matter how ridiculous it seemed at the time. So, in order to save herself, she agreed to help the Insurrectionists with the downfall of Project Freelancer. At the time, she thought she wasn't actually going to help them, but turn her back and hope never to encounter their leader ever again. Instead, when delving into research after being freed and found, everything, as far as she could tell, was true. All the plans had been laid in front of her.

That was the day she knew she could never trust her teammates again.

Connecticut's eyes opened to a harshly bright light that seemed to blind her no matter how much she tried to block it out. She squinted and held her hands to cover her eyes and see who it was that was shining such a bright light straight into her eyes. It turned out to be the guard from before and before she could say anything, he clenched her forearm, right on the burn, and pulled her up and shoving her out of the cell. Glancing around a moment before being shoved again showed that the cell she had been sharing with Itidal was now completely void and only caused more of a sickness to boil in the pit of her stomach.

The stairs leading up into the main facility's lower level was narrow and extremely claustrophobic. Thankfully, Connie was used to small, unfamiliar spaces and was able to make it to the top without much of a problem. It was when she reached the top of the staircase that her hands were bound in rope, making them tight enough to cut off a bit of circulation, but not all of it. Those who walked around going about their duties came stared at Connie. That's when she realized she had no idea how long she had been out or down there, or even if she had been seen in the light of day for more than what she thought was a few hours.

Her cloak dragged behind her, the ends now ragged after having tried to remedy Itidal's wounds from before. The guards cleared the people and told Connie to keep walking. She obliged and so was any other that was directed to move along. The odd thing was most of the people that stared at Connie seemed to be natives or something close to the native race. The faces of those who kept staring, even if they were walking, were ones of tiredness, disappointment, and sheer shock. She couldn't have been the first prisoner that the UNSC took, right?

With a beat into the crick of her back with the butt of an assault rifle, she was moved along into a narrow corridor, a guard leading ahead and behind her. No way for her to escape unless she could somehow get feeling in her hands long enough to get out of the ropes. She was the one at the disadvantage and she didn't need to die before she knew what the hell happened to Itidal. If something did in fact happen to her that didn't exactly leave her alive and well, she would have to tell Leroi, and that wasn't a conversation she was ready to have just yet.

The guards hauled her into a room of black and chrome, fluorescent light scattering the ceiling and allowing the entirety of the room to become void of any shadow for an enemy to hide. A man sat at a table, standard captain issued UNSC armor. She was motioned by said stranger into a seat across from him and she complied, bindings making it a bit difficult to sit correctly on the chair. The whole situation made her uncomfortable. From being ambushed, to Itidal going missing, and now this, CT was worried and somewhat assured that there was something going on that she really probably didn't want to know about.

Guards that had entered the room with her unbound her hands and then chained them to the stationary table she was sitting at, leaving the room right after. She was relieved that there was some feeling being regained in her fingertips, but it still wasn't making the situation at hand any more pleasing. If anything, it reminded her of the interrogation from the Insurrectionists. Perhaps this whole situation was to reinstate her into the Insurrectionist group. Maybe they had survived all this time and the leader was still there.

The man's smile and gentle visage was oddly uncomfortable. "Now, dear," he began, voice calm and leveled. "What is your name?"

At this point, Connie knew she had two options and would only really get out alive with one. She could lie about her name and hope that the Project Freelancer files weren't on record. Or, she could tell him her name, why she was there, and fight her way out. With the second option, of course, she would just end up dead. Coming to a final decision, she responded, "Teresa. Teresa March."


	5. Out of the Frying Pan

"March, hmm?" the man asked, keeping his eyes on the pad on the desk and scribbles he made. "And tell me, Ms. March, how long have you been living on Oasis IV?"

"A few weeks," she explained, attempting to come up with a story on the spot. She wasn't sure if it was going to work, but even if he knew better, she could always try again. "I'm a trader. My ship was attacked by rogue mercenaries and I jettisoned in an escape pod, landing in the desert."

"The desert? How in hell did you survive?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised of her survival.

"I had water and some food. I was able to walk for a few days, but ended up passing out. I was found a mile or so outside the village T'kama Delta. A family helped me to get well again and -"

"The Mwokozi siblings."

Connie stopped for a moment. How the hell did he know who Itidal and Leroi were? Was Itidal still in the outpost? She knew she couldn't just say yes and put them in any more potential danger. But it isn't like she could just lie about who found her. This was the UNSC. They most likely had files on everyone that came in and out of this planet, and more importantly, T'kama Delta. There was no point in lying, but once she told the truth, she'd have to get out of there and fast. Connie ended up nodding in response, the man mimicking the motion and continuing to write down more scribbles. His smile now became unnerving and just made everything a lot more uncomfortable.

Placing the pencil down on the desk, the man folded his hands and looked up. "Well, that explains why you went undocumented in the UNSC files for this planet," he spoke in the same cool voice that gave her chills and memories from the life she had left behind on the _Mother of Invention_. "But," he bit, turning the soothing tones into more harsh and direct ones. "It does _not_ explain how you go undocumented for _all_ UNSC files in the database, Ms. March. So I will ask you once again, what is your name? And please, take note that lying to an officer of UNSC has _limitless_ penalties and sentences."

"I told you, my name is Teresa March. Why would I lie about my own name?" The man slammed his fists on the desk, taking CT off guard, putting her under defense mode. "Seven," he mumbled under his breath, face now staring into the desk that separated them. "Seven goddamn months of asking the same fucking question and yet you **_still_** refuse to tell me your true name. No files can match a picture to your face. No people recognize your or can claim you. You don't exist. You never did exist and yet you constantly pester me into thinking that you're an actual fucking human. Even that damn native was more helpful than you were…"

Connie stood up, slouching over as the chains at her wrists pulled her back down a bit, refusing to let her entire self stand up all the way. "What the hell did you do to Itidal?" Connie demanded. She had been in that cell seven months? Then why couldn't she remember it? Why couldn't the memories just come back of going down there and coming up for seven months? She felt weak, as if the mentioning of the months had suddenly caused all the weakness to return to her body all at once. The man said nothing, only mumbling to himself and then gathering his things, leaving the table. Connie continued to scream her question at him, but he didn't respond. The only thing he said was when he reached the doorway, turning his head back slightly and saying, "I'd tell you, only you'd forget it again, so why waste breath? Hopefully, you'll give me the answers I want next time." With that, he left the room and locked her in, the sold metal box echoing her screams and retaliations back at her. The sound of a gas could be heard from all corners of the room, and that's when she froze.

The gas. She couldn't breathe in the gas or she'd forget again, the sound causing memories from the forgotten months to begin to trickle in. It wasn't like there was much she could do at the moment; hands chained to a stationary table. It was like this every time she had come in here. And every time she forgot. But CT was going to put up a fight. Thankfully, UNSC basic training had given a few lessons on holding one's breath for a significant time (aka let's stick the newbie's heads in tubs of water and let's see how long they last until they pass out).

Against her better judgment, she took a deep breath, hoping for it to be mostly oxygen and began to fiddle with the locks on her wrists. Useless. Of course. The sound of gas got louder, more of it probably being pumped in to get her to stop. But once she realized she wasn't getting out of those chains with much ease, she had to switch to Plan B. She let out her breath, and sat in her chair, pulling the cloak over her head in compliance and acceptance of her fate. But instead of just letting it rest over her head, she pulled it over her face, hoping the myths of semi-porous cloths being able to filter the air. After about a minute or so, she got a bit dizzy, but the gas stopped and the fans turned on to filter it all out before the guards from before came in to pick her up and drag her back to her cell.

They entered the room, poking at her, prodding with batons until they were sure it was safe to say she had been knocked out. Thankfully, they weren't actually checking anything important, like breathing, but assuming as much as possible. This was the mistake that gave Connecticut the opening she needed.

The guard on her left unlatched her left hand, letting it dangle off the side, then the right guard and hand doing the same. They both lifted her by her underarms and lifting her out of seats. She waited a moment, acting as dead weight until they got her out of the chair and away from the desk. Then, once she had her chance, she planted her feet on the ground, took all her energy and flipped backwards, holding onto the guards and she was able to at least knock them off their feet. The guards let go and that's when she knew she finally had the out she wanted.

One of the guards scrambled to his feet and reached for his baton while the other began calling for backup. Well, it wasn't the easiest out in the world, but at least it was one. She went for the guard still on the floor, kicking him the chest and making him reel back. The baton came at her with a large, brute-like swing which could easily be dodged and have the guard stumble due to a lack of actual technique in the swing. The downed one grabbed at her ankle, causing her to stumble a bit, but allowing for her other one to kick under his chin with the heel of her foot. The standing one went in for another swing, this one fast, but let Connie catch it before getting whacked in the face. With a grunt, she twisted his arm back, causing him to scream a bit and drop the baton. Immediately, she reached down and grabbed it, reeling up and knocking the other guard in the helmet and causing him to fall to the floor. She did the same to the one at her leg and he let go. They weren't unconscious, but it was as good as she was going to get until she could find Itidal, Leroi, and her armor.

Taking the baton, she shoved off and ran out the room and down the hall, back to where she had come from. Adrenaline was pumping like there was no end. For all CT knew, there wasn't. Three more guards appeared as she turned a corner, trapping her. There was no use to turning around and heading back because two guards had replaced the ones she took down before. She was surrounded. If she was going to survive, the smart and easy decision would be to turn herself in and go with them. But that would be leading right back to square one. Connie should have been smart. She should have done what her thoughts told her to. But her hot head versus her weak body was not a fight she was ready to deal with.

Connie let her mind take over and took a few steps back, nearly getting within the grasp of the men behind her before sprinting and throwing herself into the shoulders of the men in front, launching her way through and kept running. She hadn't known how it worked, but it did and that's what she liked. They were hot on her tracks, but she wasn't ready to slow down; not as long as her body was letting her run, which, in all essentiality, wasn't that long.

She made it to the main lobby area, the people passing by staring with worry and curiousness. Guards attempted to keep the people at bay using words and making a barrier, but it wasn't long until the other guards showed up, the crowd now starting to cause a fuss. She didn't say in place too long, still attempting to flee the guards. The doors were past a barrier of guards and people. Ramming would prove fruitless and it wasn't like she could take down them all in the state she was in. Especially without her armor. So doing the only thing she could do, she knelt down and begged for help.

This was extremely odd for her. But, her thoughts went along the lines of getting the crowd in her favor and then having them fight against the UNSC soldiers. The ones that followed her clenched her arms and attempted to drag her to the stairs leading to the cells, but people began to riot. Well, one person did, then another, then a cascade of people, workers and civilians, ran past the guards and attempted to slaughter the ones dragging CT to where she came from. Maybe it was the helplessness or the fact she looked like she had been to hell and back, but strangers were willing to fight. Perhaps she caused more than a little riot here. Maybe, if this ended up anything like Freelancer, then they would see the wrong doings of those who attempted to protect them and rise up.

But that was a complete shot in the dark and nothing was keeping these UNSC "soldiers" from going around, killing everybody, and claiming it wasn't them.

Some of the men and women being held back made it through the barricade and grabbed at Connie's legs just as the men tried dragging her down the stairs. The few who made it through couldn't have done much, for they were only beaten down with the electric clubs and falling down in failure. The men unlocked the door and a larger crowd came running. They put up more of a fight. One even bit the larger of two men, causing him to drop that arm and beat the hell out of the poor woman. She couldn't have been much over twenty. Thankfully, this gave Connie a sliver of an opening and she took it without hesitation.

Taking a chance, Connie flipped so her back was on the cold chrome flooring and then bucked her legs at the man, kicking him in the lower abdomen. He sputtered on his breaths, trying to breathe whilst dropping Connie and using both hands to cover his center. The place was in full blown revolution mode now. Her thoughts flickered, and then attempted to find out where exactly to head to in the mess of a crowd to escape. And hand grasped hers as she searched. Immediately, she attempted to pull it off, but they weren't going to fight. It was a man, large, dark skinned, dressed in what formal clothes could pass for on this planet. He towered over Connie, like how Maine used to. He wasn't going to hurt her, however, but only said, "Come with me," before taking her arm and bouldering through the enormous crowd whist keeping CT in tow.

A minute or so later, the large native and Connie went crashing through the entrance, causing them both to stumble on their feet before running into the lands that separated the UNSC facility and T'kama Delta. It was a hell of a run, to say the least. They ran, or more likely sprinted, as far as they could before her body refused to let her move any more. It was there where they stopped, behind a mass of rocks in a hopeful shade to take away from the desert heat, and there where the man began to ask questions.

In the light of the sun which burned her eyes, the face was recognizable to Connie as Leroi. That's when she thought she would die. "Where is Itidal?" he demanded, arms folded with a menacing face and husky voice to match.

"Itidal? W-I thought she found a way out."

"You lie. She never returned back after you two left."

"Then I have no idea. When I woke up this morning, she was gone. It's been seven months and I can't remember most of it."

"Is my sister still in there, then?"

"I told you, I have no idea. But...I honestly wouldn't count on it."

"Why? What did those bastards do?"

"I don't know. All I remember was from when we were first thrown in and she was beaten to near death. I tried to help make her better. I patched her up and then passed out. When I woke up today, she was gone. For all I know she's been gone for a while now."

He stopped and turned away from her and began walking away, at which point Connie tried getting up, ending up in a kneel. "Wait! What the hell is going on? Where is she?" she called out to him. And Leroi stopped, turned back and only responded, "Everything is dead. And apparently, so is my sister."


	6. But If You Close Your Eyes

Weak, defenseless, and alone. That's how she was left. And for all she knew, that was how she left Itidal as well. Clearly, she hadn't returned back to T'Kama Delta in the time Connie had been locked up. But it wasn't like the girl was dumb. Going back to the village would be a death sentence, since clearly the UNSC had tabs on everybody going in and out of that place. Perhaps she left and ran off into the desert, hoping to reach another outpost with slightly less insane people or to another village located somewhere else in the desert. Though, from what Connie remembered from her short time out there, that was probably the least likely thing to occur, nothing surrounding this place for miles.

The sun was absolutely dreadful, its vicious rays relentlessly beating down on her tired and withered body. Dying would be too great of a gift for the world to give her, so instead, she began to pull herself up and walk. The village was, thankfully, within her view, giving her hope. There was the chance that at any moment, she'd fall over and nobody would see her or attempt to help her. It had been seven months, after all. It wasn't like anybody would remember a stranger that was only there for a day or so. There was something about the village, however, that seemed to make CT a bit nervous.

Nobody was outside. The streets were barren. No lights from candles or lanterns filled homes nor did the sweet scents of local delicacies. It was as if the entire population decided to evaporate all at once. A lot seemed to change in seven months, and it wasn't sitting well with the former Freelancer. Seven months were now what seemed to haunt the roads as she got closer, and she was the only thing that seemed to be left.

If she wasn't ready to pass out at any moment, Connie would investigate and try to find anybody else that could have survived whatever happened to this place. From what she could tell as she entered the vacant streets, that would be an impossibility. No life stirred as she reached the center square. Not even a small creature that would normally skittered in the streets dared to move from whatever recess it had placed itself in. Even the rats that crossed alleyways made no special appearances.

Connie wondered if everyone had died in the time she had been gone. She thought it to be an impossible notion, but as she looked through the boarded up windows and charred insides of homes, it didn't seem all that impossible anymore. Ashes were spread in a layer to cover everything the closer she looked at the buildings that surrounded her. In some cases, piles of black and grey were spread in streets along with some remnants of colored cloths and objects like pots of spilled water and toys. Her eyes attempted to avoid the scene all around her, but her worst fears were only confirmed when she reached the home of Itidal and her brother.

Entering the front door, the place was totally abandoned. No sign of life nor light radiated from the place. "Itidal?" CT called, hoping for a response. "Itidal? It's me. It's CT. You here?" Nothing but echoes of herself responded. A feeling of dread overwhelmed her body, but her tiredness took precedence. Finding her way to the bed she first awoke on, she flopped her body down and attempted to sleep off what she could only describe as a horrible nightmare.

That, of course, was something that she could not be given the pleasure of having.

Her mind blanked out when she laid her head down to rest. No dreams blessed her in her short rest nor visions of peace and a land of happiness. It was a dark night and before she knew it, she was awake again. Her head was pounding, but when she got up, the sun was gone, stars twinkling overhead. Nobody was there watching over her nor tending to her wounds. Everything was gone and she couldn't help but feel that she was a main antagonist in Itidal's fate. The last thing she could even remember of the girl was her bloodied body and the way she shrank at the words of the guard. The face she made when she saw CT's arms get scarred by the electric baton. Curling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, she tried to forget it all. It wasn't easy, but if she wanted to survive, she had to. There was no if, and, or but about it. Right now she was dying still, though the sleep helped. It was freezing outside and no sight of her armor in the dark. She needed to survive because that would be what Itidal wanted. Or, that's what Connie tried to tell herself.

First thing was first. After her moment of regret, she tried to find any food or water left. There wasn't much, when she started searching, but pulling up a large stone tile, she noticed a crate with supplies like extra food, water, and bandages. Finally some good news. She took out whatever she could and drenched herself in a bottle of water, drinking some as well. The coolness woke her up and she immediately went for the rations next. It wasn't anything normally tasteful, but it was better than not having anything to eat at all. It probably wasn't the best idea, but she scarfed down about two or three slices of hard bread and then reached for the bandages.

Bandages in hand, she began to wrap up the various wounds that she had collected over the multiple months of captivity. She started with her legs and worked up, turning 3 rolls of bandages into a little less than one. Most of her body looked either like a caked up pile of dirt or a ghostly sheet of pure white. It honesyly didn't matter tot her, just as long as she wasn't going to die any time soon.

She left the box open and then crawled upon the ashen floor in search of her her underarmor. It was found relatively quickly, no thanks to the home being next to completely black, and next to it laid her brown and white armor she had arrived in. It was strange putting it back on, feeling the weight almost topple her over. Compared to before, it seemed roomier in the armor as well. it was going to have to do until she could either fill it out again or find a way to make it shrink slightly. As long as it still protected her, she was fine with whatever she could get.

Finding a bag that could be used to carry supplies was difficult to find, the one she had before not anywhere to be seen. Connie managed to get one from under a table where she figured fruits or other produce were kept in the house. It took a while to make it clear of most ash and dust, but after a few large swats of the bag and CT nearly choking on the dust, she managed to fill it with necessities for a trip away from this place. Hopefully this time, she wouldn't find herself passed out in the middle of a scorching desert land.

She could have just as easily left T'kama Delta as she could have went to find the spirit under the village. That, of course, was where she was headed and she felt stupid for attempting to do such a thing. Last time, she got herself captured and her savior killed without her even knowing it. At least the risk would be a little less and she would have her armor to protect her. Connie took the chance and left the home in the middle of the night, making her way alone through the village streets, back to where Itidal was leading her. It was only when she got to the edge of town that she got confused of where to go.

From the direction she could remember, it was towards the UNSC building. But, of course, if it was located there, then there was no way to either get back in alive or to find the thing. And they should have been able to access whatever it was by now. The UNSC maybe were brutish out here, but they didn't seem all that stupid. So either it was extremely hard to get to in the base or it wasn't where the base was at all. She needed to take a chance on where the hell this thing was and if that meant going off back into the desert and towards the place she just escaped, that would be what she had to do.

Connie found her way to the edge of the city. There wasn't much in terms of a weapon, but she still had her combat knife jammed in its sheath on her upper chest. The ash swarmed at her feet, her footprints leaving no trace as wind seemed to constantly roll by. Soon enough, she thought, the streets will be clear and there will be nothing left of these people. She had to keep moving on. Taking steps out, she began at a steady pace, not wanting to wear herself out for when the sun came.


	7. All Around Me Are Familiar Faces

If there was one thing Connecticut was going to swear off at the end of this, it would probably be going to any beach ever again.

The sun had come up only an hour or so after she had began her trek into the desert. Footsteps were almost impossible to hear with the miles and miles of sand that muffled any sound that wasn't the wind. If somebody were to sneak up behind Connie and attack her, there was a good chance she wouldn't hear it unless they were being stupidly obvious. The desert was a death trap and she wished there were another way to get to this underground sanctuary.

All the time alone had given her time to not only resent everything about sand, but it gave time for thinking to take place. Specifically about what happened in T'kama Delta. It was a simple desert village that didn't seem wrong at all. There also didn't to seemed to be much in resources. Maybe there was plenty in other parts of the planet, but in that place. there was sand. And unless they wanted to make a crap ton of glass, there was really no use for that place. Itidal said that they were after this 'spirit' that resided in the underground of the village, which didn't even seem to be very close to the village after all. So what use was this small village? Sure, they could do trade there, but it seemed the UNSC wanted more than just that. Power? It wouldn't take much to overrun the village. But, from the way everything ran there, it didn't seem to have much global political power, so again, the place is useless. None of it seemed to make sense. They were quick to burn it and abuse its citizens, but they wanted to keep it anyway, even if it was now abandoned. So what the hell made this place so fucking special?

Then a memory surfaced. The story of the god. Being somebody who really didn't believe in that kind of thing, she was pretty sure that unless there was solid proof of religious beacons being housed somewhere, they wouldn't go after it. The story sounded strange from the beginning, either way. A spirit of a man being in some other man's body? Sounded like more of a horror flick than a tale of gods. Other than every other horror movie ever made, there had been really only one other place that this was actually a thing. And, depending on who it was that she could have possibly imagined, the sick, twisted feeling in her stomach began to feel worse and worse.

It also didn't help that by this time, the sun was in the middle of the sky and she had no way to protect herself from it. Her face felt as if it were going to melt off the heat was so intense. If she was going to find this thing, she needed to find it immediately or at least fairly soon. She had been taking sips of water through the day, but it wasn't really enough. Nothing but the sands of Oasis IV around her and feeling as if she was going to pass out wasn't exactly a key idea at the moment. But as her mind spaced, she eventually ended up face down in the sand.

Connie pushed herself up, throwing down her bag, staring at the object that tricked her. It was a kind of wide dome that stretched for maybe two meters in all directions. Strange marking of what she could only assume was the language from T'kama Delta. The runes were a bit worn and sand covered a bit of it. It seemed odd, having it this far out from the village, but it seemed what Itidal was talking about before. Or, at least, that was what Connie hoped it was.

She knelt down, putting down her sack and felt along the edge for anything to grab to pull off this over. There was nothing for what could even be gripped. But, she eventually felt a bump under the sand and immediately started to brush away the sand. Runes of what she could only assume as the native language, were inscribed in rings around until it reached to one center inscription that covered the top. She spun the bottom ring, figuring that this was going to work like some sort of lock. Memories of York in training with Delta flashed into her mind. How he could spend 5 hours or 5 seconds on a lock and somehow always got it open and closed within the time they needed. Hell only knew how he was after Freelancer. Maybe he was living happily off as a real kind of mercenary. Or maybe he was with UNSC, though that was a stretch. After what the Director had done to them, getting a job anywhere would be probably the hardest thing in the world.

Hands moved along the runes, attempting to decipher the code and unlock the hatch. It was a hell of a code, to say the least. None of the runes that seemed to lock together made any sense on how the hell they would go together. It was a long and painful trial and error process. And by painful, the runes and rings had small spikes that would electrocute her a bit if she got the combination wrong. She took breaks between sets of shocks and unlocking and shoving the giant rings around to catch her breath and not overwork her systems.

The time seemed to fly by, though it wasn't by having fun. By the time she got the hatch unlocked, she had been shocked hundreds of times, arms felt weak, the sky was darkened, and at this point, opening the hatch didn't even seem like it was worth it. It would be a lot easier just playing stow-away and getting off of Oasis IV.

But she sat in the sand and stared up at the sky, looking down at the hatch every now and again. She had to open it. She got it unlocked (somehow) and she needed to get inside. She didn't want to move though. The sand was too comfortable and she was still sore as hell from the seven months of torture. Midnight sand gusts weren't pleasant, however, so that was a disadvantage. Sand was flung in her face as her hair got whipped around for the hundredth time and that's when she decided to head inside.

With a groan, Connie pushed herself up from the sands and walked back to the latched, finally locked in place and waiting to be opened. Part of her was worried about why the UNSC hadn't found it yet. It wasn't like it was _that_ well hidden. It was just covered under a bunch of sand. Maybe they hadn't checked out in this part. Or their Warthogs ran over it over and over and they hadn't noticed before. Not even a radar would beep at this, or otherwise the UNSC would be all over this thing.

CT, with a hell of a lot of strength, lifted the top up with the the cover falling back with a thud and a cloud of sand forming in front of her. She coughed and tried brushing it away until cleared. All that was left in the place was a dark hole with a bottomlessness that gave her an eerie feeling. The light of a close moon nor the stars above could let her see very far down. A ladder was on the edge closest to her and that's when she decided to go down. As long as she didn't have to jump and possibly harm herself, then she was okay with that. Activating the lights on her shoulders, she crawled her way to setting on the ladder and began her decent.

Each step down she took, a metallic ring echoed through the tomb of sandstone and rock. Some sound was absorbed but was still loud enough to alert anybody or anything waiting for her at the bottom that she was coming. It didn't matter to her. She had her knife with her and though still sore, she had a better chance fighting off somebody than she did the previous day or even a few hours ago. Every so often, Connecticut had to hook herself to the rungs and rest a moment and catch her breath before unhooking and continuing her way down again.

That repeat process happened about six or so times over an amount of time that eventually escaped CT. But the lights of her armor caught the surprisingly chrome-plated ground. The last rungs she slid past, feet landing on the ground and hands still grasping the sides of the ladder. No sound. Not yet at least. She turned, lights revealing some kind of lost base, possibly UNSC, filled with sand and dust and what she could only assume were cobwebs. A pedestal was raised in the center of the room. But what was strange about this place mostly was the horrid stench that filled the air the more and more she walked about the hall and into the center area.

A hum similar to one of a computer modem was echoed in the nearly empty area and the steps of the armored boots of Connie's were the only sounds heard in the room. Instead of heading to the pedestal, however, she headed towards an adjacent hall where the hum got louder. Except so did the stench. Stomach churning, she headed closer to the sound and found herself in front of a glowing green teleportation device. And there, right in front, was what made Connecticut puke for the first time consciously and in her memory.

Piles of rotten flesh were stacked, one on top of another. Odors of feces and urine and decay were what were breathed in and in that hall, there was no such thing as fresh air. There were at least twenty, maybe fifty or more, that were piled up in front of that teleportation screen. She had to get a hold of herself, so instead of going closer and making the stench worse, she ran back to the main console area, attempting to rid herself of a stench that seemed to linger no matter what she did.

She caught herself on the console, her body eventually just giving her dry heaves as almost everything that could have been puked up at that point was already back leaving a swirling and wonderful odor back in the corridor. It took a few breaths to calm herself and catch up to what she had just seen. Human lives laying there so disorganized and disgusting. There was no way that this place could have been a temple for the people of T'kama Delta. It was horrendous and inhumane. The saddest part wasn't that even that it was innocent people. Oh no. It was UNSC officers. At least, that's what the blood stained scraps said they were.

So not only did the UNSC know about this place, but they had been trying to get in for what seems like a while now. CT shut her eyes and took a deep breath, muttering words to herself that couldn't be heard to anybody but her. And for a while, there was silence, pure and simple. She tried blocking out the stench, no matter how putrid, and the hum of the teleporter that had sealed all those poor souls fates.

"Where did I go wrong?" she asked herself, quiet and to nobody in particular. There was silence, as she expected, until a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Agent Connecticut?" it asked, her head immediately shooting up and searched the room, hand grasping the hilt of her dagger. Nothing. Nothing until she looked in front of her, eyes going wide and her mind denying who-no-_what_ she saw in front of her. It took a bit of effort, but she eventually spoke one work that she thought would either kill her or give her hope.

"D...Delta?"


	8. To Each His Own

"H..how the hell did you...how are you alive? What are you doing here? Where's York?" There were a million questions CT wanted to ask the glowing AI. And no matter how happy she was about seeing a familiar face in this middle-of-nowhere civilization, her heart was in pain when she thought of about how he could have ended up there. And it wasn't like she wasn't ready for answers finally, since that was what she had been looking for for seven or eight months at this point. Maybe, she thought, now would be a time when everything would finally become clearer to her. Maybe, finally, she'd be taken out of the dark.

Delta, still looking the same as he always was, stepped forward so he was standing on the edge of the podium. "I was not aware that you were on this planet, Agent Connecticut," he spoke in his normal tone. "I was also unaware that you had survived the fatal wound dealt by Agent Texas back on the Insurrectionist ship. Any questions you have, I am willing to answer."

_Take a breath, CT. Don't overwhelm yourself with questions_. She took a breath and collected her thoughts, figuring out exactly what she wanted to ask him. "Where's York?" she began as a multi-parted question. "And what about Carolina and Wash and Tex? All of them What happened to Freelancer?"

Delta didn't answer for a while, as if he had frozen and couldn't speak any longer. Like he was broken. Did she break him already? She didn't want to say anything, just in case he was processing it. And it took a while, but he responded, not as vibrantly as his words were before.

"Agent Florida, Agent Maine, Agent North, Agent South, Agent Texas..." Connie stopped listening after the first few names. She didn't want to listen to all those who were dead because of what happened on that ship. There were so many ways that she could have prevented it. Explaining to Carolina instead of saying what she did. Trying to stop Allison before she shot her hologram. Before all the fighting broke out she could have escaped. If she explained or attempted to at least get them over would have maybe changed everything.

Maybe everybody wouldn't have died.

She felt like she was going to be sick. With the stench in the air and images of her teammates, _friends_, dead on the floor, it was a vile mix. It was the light of the green fragment that eventually got her attention back in the real world. A coolness swept over her face, tears that rolled down her cheeks allowing the cold to stay. She wanted to believe they brought it upon themselves. That _they_ were the stupid ones who didn't want to join her and see the truth of it all. In a way, that was how it was. But if she tried harder, maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't be all gone. CT stood in a bitter silence, the only noise coming from the AI flickering in front of her.

Crying wasn't an option at this point. When she was alone or drunk out of her mind, then she could cry. Then she could just let it go, but right now she was still on her mission. Connie wiped away the tears from her cheeks and looked down at Delta who seemed to be curious as to why she was crying. "Did anybody survive?" she asked, thinking why the hell not. It wasn't like she couldn't get worse than now. Delta stood back, silent for another moment, perhaps to prepare her. Then his familiar voice chimed up again.

"Agent Carolina and Agent Washington are still active," he said, almost relieved to say so. CT looked at his, skeptic of his words. She hadn't listened to him all before, too ingrained in her own thoughts. If they were alive, then maybe there was a chance for redemption. There could be a chance to make things as right as they could be.

If they were alive, she needed to find them. "Where are their current locations?" she questioned, hoping that they were at least in the local system. It was too hopeful a thought, but better than any, she figured.

"Agent Carolina is located on the planet of Ariel. Agent Washington...is missing strangely."

Oh no.

"What do you mean _missing_?" she questioned, getting closer to Delta. "I thought you said he was fine."

"I said he was alive. There is a difference, Agent Connecticut."

"Don't get snarky with me now Delta," she warned. "Where the hell was he last?"

"Allow me to check." Delta was silent a moment and the stench seemed to start flooding back into the room. "Agent Washington was last seen on Chorus. It is a mostly unexplored system with few UNSC colonies spread out through the system and on the planet as well."

"Then that's where we're going."

"What was that, Agent Connecticut?" the AI asked, slightly confused. "I noticed you use the term 'we' inside of 'I'. Was that intentional?"

She nodded. "I need you to come with me Delta. I'm not letting you stay here on your own where the UNSC can find you." _It's what York would want_. That's what she had to tell herself. While everything was wrong with the way Project Freelancer went about, York and Delta were still close, if that was the word for it. If Delta got into the enemy hands then...she didn't know what she'd do. She'd probably feel worse than she did already. Everybody's death was because of her; because she couldn't think quick enough to get them out of there.

"The sentiment has been noted, Agent Connecticut, but I must reject."

"You don't have a choice here, Delta. You're coming with me and I'm getting you out of here. Enter your storage device."

He didn't want to. Last time it happened, he was, well, it wasn't a pleasing time. But he obeyed orders and flicked away, storing himself in the chip device of the podium. CT pulled him out, storing him in her helmet. It was a strange feeling, a little headache starting to rise as the AI got comfortable, or equivalent thereof. The room was now silent, minus her own breaths. She was surprised the UNSC hadn't been able to get in there, yet, but that was a question for another day.

Now she just had to find to get out of there.

***-*-*AUTHORS NOTE*-*-***

_Sorry this took so long to get out. I've been having a lot of trouble trying to get through this chapter mainly for the reason that I'm excited for what I've got in store for this. Anyway, thank you for all the reads and all the love you guys are giving this. I'll have a lot more time to write now that school's ending and everything's settling down for once._

_Also, it doesn't help that the TF2 update was yesterday and now I'm trying to recover from that and HTTYD 2. Been a crazy time._

_Anyway guys, I love you and hope you keep reading!_

**_Aerista_**


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